((I got bored, why not resurrect a character nobody knows of?))

A forgotten isle of jungle and haze held its secret fast through the ages, the volcano in its heart had been sleeping for eternity. Things here had been done the same way without question for its population, an ancient Ssilik tribe, all of whom by birth had white scales and black stripes. Hunt, Live, Worship. Do not question your duties. Do not question the gods. Do not sway in your reverence and faith to the god-rulers.

Something not done outside the island, reverence and worship of dragons was law here. There were no dragons left living on the island, but it did not sway the tribe. The legend passed down from tribesman to tribesman was that the tribe did something to cause anger, raining destruction upon them. Since that day the Ssilik of the tribe never thought twice of questioning the authority of the great lords. And with the legend the descriptions and images of dragons were passed on too.

Soon was the coming of age ceremony. Young Ssiliks when born here, were raised collectively by the whole tribe, not just from the parent that spawned it. And when one was reaching the point just before the head feathers grew in, the whole town collectively smiled in happiness.

"Tamassssh-karn isss old enough. Go forth, prove for villiage." said the chieftain, handing the young one a bow, a spear, and a shield. It was now that the Ssilik had to venture forth into the jungle and find something that would prove Tamashkarn was not a hatchling anymore.

Gone for a week, and living off the bountry of the jungle, there was nothing at all worthy to present to the chieftain that would also appease the firebreathing gods... but then it was seen. A jaguar in the brush, something held by the tribe to be a noble and powerful animal. Tamashkarn drew back the bowstring slowly aiming... and the arrow flew into it's shoulder. The jaguar turned with a roar, charging toward the Ssilik who armed itself with spear and shield. The giant cat pounced, Tamashkarn falling backward under the weight of the creature as it raised the shield and held out the spear, connecting solidly with the cat's heart. Finally, a trophy! Tamashkarn knelt down and prayed fervently for the gift bestowed upon him by the gods, and began to skin and make the most of the kill. This was not uncommon for the young one, Tamashkarn was possibly one of the most spiritual and reverent of the tribe in these days. It stored the meat in its pack, the blood in its waterskins, and wore the fur on its body, returning home.

The villiage cheered collectively to see the return of one grown up.

The age-long ritual would be complete under the stars, the trophy blood mixed into a basin of water, meat offered on the altar, words uttered by the chieftain. Tamashkarn stood before the basin, knowing what had to be done through many times seeing this ritual performed. It always varied based on what the trophy returned with was, but overall, always the same: The Ssilik would cease to be white through bathing in pigmented water, color denoting status and role in the villiage upon what the young one's trophy and history was.

"Thisss night one hasss grown, tribe praysss you reckognissse in ever ssseeing eyesss the assscensssion, eternal lordsss." the chieftain said, raising arms to the sky.

"Assscensssion from hatchling..." the group spoke together.

"Tribe offersss you the Jaguar to ssshow ssstrength of young one. Thisss one praysss great onesss accsept offering of Jaguar'sss mighty flesssh." the chieftain spoke.

"Meat worthy of great one'sss ssstrength..." uttered the group.

"Jaguar killsss with red, blood red, and Tamassshkarn hasss taken back blood of Jaguar. Power tribe placesss within water to help assscend in great one'sss eyesss..." the chieftain spoke further, adding a satchel of a potent and permanent red pigment to turn the water into a dye.

"May young one assscend purified with power of water." the tribe spoke.

"Red isss blood. Red alssso fire. Fire isss the holy onesss. Red isss sssacred. Tamassshkarn isss dessserving of sssacred red for eternal devotion and Jaguar!" the chieftain roared, lowering his arms from the sky.

"May young one assscend purified by great one'sss fire." the tribe chanted.

Tamashkarn was taken aback to be granted a great honor of the tribe, red was a sacred color to them as a symbol of fire and lava, of which the dragons were said to have been. The red dye pigment was a very rare regent on the island and hard to produce, which may have also aided the fact that only a select few through the tribe's history had become redscales.

Stepping into the basin with a hollow twig to breathe through, Tamashkarn submerged to forever be painted red, as the village banded together in a fanfare. After several minutes, the Ssilik arose anew, in red glory. The skies above rolled in thunder as it began to rain, something the tribe took as an omen as Tamashkarn stretched out his arms to embrace the downpour, reborn.

"Tamassshkarn hasss been ssseen by great onesss and they are pleasssed! Let it be known forever Tamassshkarn the Raindancsser!" the chief roared.

Years passed on and the Ssilik became a respected elder-priest of the gods. While meditating, a messenger came noting an 'old friend not spoken to in some time summons for presence'. Tracking through the jungle behind the messenger, they arrived at the camp.

"What can thisss one do for old friend?" it spoke as the messenger left.

The elder's childhood friend had finished its rite a few days after Tamashkarn in the past, being granted the color green as a warrior of the lower caste... But that did not matter to him as he picked up his spear. He has worked so hard for his rite, only to cheat in the end. If only Tamashkarn had not killed the jaguar, it would have been his, he would have been the redscale that he had secretly envied for years...

"Nothing." the friend said in a quick action, slamming the tip of the spear through the heart of the redscale elder, who silently fell to the ground.

A growing puddle of crimson oozed onto the ground from the wound, and from the ssilik's mouth. Red on red grew, to the last sounds gurgled from the dying: ".... .... wh... why?...."

Although the warrior's jealousy has been appeased, he began to feel as if something was horribly not right...

As Tamashkarn exhaled the last time, the island's sleeping dragon awoke for the first time in centuries. The grand volcano Sssruryen erupted in a massive thunder, spraying ash into the air that blotted out the sun. The warrior looked upward, knowing he had done something wrong, but had not thought wrong enough to arouse the ire of the gods. Screaming in terror, he ran headlong into the jungle with nothing more than the spear he held.

The omen rang clear into the village too... when the redscale elder they loved did not return, the messenger showed them to the camp to find the horror of the murder, something almost unheard of in the tribe. And unfortunately for the warrior who had committed the atrocity, trackers are skilled. They captured the offender and hauled him to a ledge near the angry and trembling volcano where the lava was heading to the sea, eating and burning the forest in its path.

"Great onesss, thisss warrior hasss taken your beloved raindancsser redssscale elder, we offer thisss one to you." a grey hunter Ssilik yelled to the heavens as the ground shook in a quake, as if to show the wrath of the gods.

"Tribe hopesss to eassse great lord'sss anger and pain asss great onesss mourn lossss of the raindancssser..." a blue high-warrior cried out. The ground shook again as the volcano roared loudly, leaving the tribal band devoutly fearful. The murderer would have cried now, but that is something Ssiliks cannot do, so he bowed his head as shameful acts raced through it. With a shift in his weight and a heave, he caught those holding him off guard and threw them off the edge into the lava. The villagers, in a horrified gaze, broke into chaos to restrain the murderer once again.

The angry volcano passed its judgment on the act, by spilling lava over a new edge of its rim as the torrent below increased with a mighty roar and another tremor of the earth. The horrified villagers did not hesitate to collectively throw the murderer over the ledge, praying as the fire engulfed him: "Be purified by fire."

The new and rapidly flowing river of lava decimated all in the way, and unfortunately the ancient village was in the path. Burned away was all of the history and possessions of the tribe of dragon worshippers without a trace. Unfortunately for the Ssilik tribe, their prayers could not save them. They met the same fate as their village when the ledge collapsed, the firey pit below erasing every tribesman, and with it the remnants and traces of the dragon worshipping Ssilik tribe.

The flow cut its way across the island, until at last it arrived at the camp where the redscale fell, embracing the dead in liquid flame... the soul of the elder transported somewhere else in the world by some unknown force that left a command and mission for the Ssilik.

The redscaled Ssilik opened its eyes, vision slightly blurred. It knew it had been given a task, a mission, but it didn't remember anything. While Tamashkarn the Raindancer held all of the old values of the elder-priest, it was as if opening the eyes was as if it were waking up from a dream. Taking spear in hand, one granted by the will of the entity, the elder stood up.

And so began the journey, the only clue to the past being a shoddy burnt spear in the redscale's hand...